The Nightingale

by Kristin Hannah

In love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are.

But when he looked at her—and she looked at him—they both knew that there was something worse than kissing the wrong person. It was wanting to.

Oh noooooo

She thought: It doesn’t hurt, it’s just my body. They can’t touch my soul. It had become her mantra.

Wounds heal. Love lasts. We remain.